


the nether sucks

by lucradiss



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dave | Technoblade-centric, Family Dynamics, sbi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:42:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucradiss/pseuds/lucradiss
Summary: Techno hates the Nether. He hates it with his entire being. He wants to leave.But when he wakes up in the house owned by a human with green eyes and his son, he doesn't know what to think.---or, techno is a half-piglin who hates being an orphan
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 648





	the nether sucks

The winds were harsh, scalding Techno’s back in a way that felt familiar, but not welcome, despite it being his home. He hated this place. He hated it, he hated it, he hated it. He would do anything to leave, or to get enough gold to settle down in one of the civilizations here. He huffed and opened the small satchel on his hip, hoping to see some food but whining pitifully when he discovered there was none. That’s right- he’d eaten the last of his nether wart yesterday. The nearest fortress was thousands of blocks away and he couldn’t fight striders for their meat without getting seriously injured or even dying- and a couple chunks of viable, non-toxic strider meat wasn’t worth the pain it would take in order to obtain it. He sighed angrily. What was he going to do? There was a small town just north of here, but he didn’t have the gold to buy food. He supposed he could just steal, but he stuck out like a sore thumb among other Piglins, being a hybrid. He would inevitably get caught, and then he’d have to run away from the village quicker than when he arrived, and he doubted he could get enough food to last him the long, long way Piglins tended to run down their prey.  
He groaned, falling back onto a small mound of soul sand and looking up at the glowstone above. It looked almost like what he envisioned stars would look like in the overworld. He wished he could go there. Maybe he would be able to find one of his parents, if they were still alive. He resented them for leaving him like this, but despite being young, he knew that this place was no home for a human. Hell, it wasn’t a good home for him- how would a full human survive?  
He pulled out the book he’d stolen from the last village’s library and opened it to the page he’d dog-eared: Overworld Astronomy. He traced his fingers over the words, mouthing them to himself quietly. He didn’t know what a lot of them meant, and having to have taught himself to read, a lot of them were foreign to his eyes, but he didn’t care. The book spoke of constellations and the moon, of the sun and clouds and birds that flew overhead when dawn broke. He wanted that. He wanted that so badly.

There was a page in the book that detailed a portal, made of obsidian and flame, that could be used to get to this magical, bright world that Techno yearned to travel to, but obsidian was expensive, and iron was scarce. There was no way he’d be able to make one for himself, not in the situation he was in now. His only chance was to find one. Which was… impossible. Unless a human came to the nether, there was no portal. And he would have to deal with that. He grimaced and closed the book slowly, putting it back into his satchel. This yearning… it did him no good. He wouldn’t ever get to the overworld, and if he did it wouldn’t be anytime soon. He would just have to swallow that pill and deal with his life how it was in that moment- harsh, hot, and dry as bone.

He steeled himself, stood, and begun the long, rough trek to the nearest fortress.

\------

Phil pulled at his robes. The nether was hot. Hotter than he’d remembered it last, but maybe that was just him getting old, or something. He sighed, shifting his wings behind him and pushing himself up into the air. He needed this powder and wart fast so he could get out of this hell, but he had no idea where a fortress was. He heard ghasts cry in the distance and tisked. He hated this place. All he could do was pray this would be a quick trip.

He flew for a while. He groaned when he felt his wings begin to cake in the dust that lingered throughout this land- he would need to take a long bath when he got back home, hopefully within the day, but with this type of mission he could never tell. Time worked differently here, and he knew that better than anyone- he just hoped he wouldn’t be away from Wilbur for too long. Despite leaving him in the devious but capable hands of Fundy, he still got anxious when away from his son, and wanted to get back to him as quickly as possible.

He gasped when he saw the dark structure to his left and quickly veered off his path, thanking the aether that he found one within the first couple of hours. He touched down on the hard brick, running into a sheltered part and shaking the dust out of his wings. He began walking through it, bending down at the sides of a flight of stairs to pick the nether wart he needed, frowning when he noticed some of it was gone already. What could have been here before him? Piglins tended to grow their own nether wart in the undergrounds of their villages, and the other mobs that inhabited the nether had no need for the mushrooms. He hummed and stood, walking up the stairs and chalking it up as some bad spores, or something.

He heard the blazes before he saw them, as he always did. Loud motherfuckers, blazes were. He quickly took out his sword and readied it, hiding behind a wall and peeking out.

Oh, shit.

Laying there, unconscious and badly burned, was a small boy with long, matted pink hair. Three blazes hovered around him menacingly, readying their fireballs, and Phil knew he would need to move fast. He called out to the blazes and moved in once he’d gotten their attention, slashing them each with a quick swipe of his sword. They dissipated and their rods fell to the ground with a clatter. Phil quickly gathered them, putting them in his satchel before hurrying towards the boy and making sure the kid wasn’t dead.

He was breathing, thank aether, albeit shallowly, but the burns on his body would most definitely leave scars. Phil noticed the points on his ears and the small tusks protruding from the boy’s lower lip and knew he wasn’t fully human, but he also knew that if he waited any longer, the boy could die of his wounds. He huffed and gathered the kid and his satchel into his arms, running out of the fortress and taking flight.

The boy grunted in his arms, and Phil looked down to see him open his eyes. He looked at him with weak fear, but didn’t move- for that, Phil was grateful.  
“I’m going to take you home,” Phil said, “And help you feel better. Is that okay?”

The boy blinked at him, seemingly trying to understand what he was saying, but before he could say anything back, his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell limp once more. Phil swore and beat his wings faster, trying his best to get back to the portal. He sighed in relief when he finally found it, stumbling to the ground and breaking out into a run, jumping through. He noticed it was nighttime- he hoped it wasn’t days later- and started sprinting back home. He was so glad, for once, that he made this portal so close to his house. The noises and occasional pigman coming through was entirely worth it at this very moment.

He burst through the door, startling the room’s inhabitants.

“Phil? What’s wro- Who is that?” Fundy asked questions while moving away from the couch. Phil laid the boy down and shooed the other man away with a hand, crouching in front of him.

“Wil, get me a health potion, a regeneration potion, bandages and some ginseng. Please.”

His son nodded and ran into Phil’s room, digging through his father’s chests to find the supplies he needed.

“Wilbur, what’s going on?”

“Fundy, thank you for taking care of Wilbur while I was gone, but I need you to leave. I’ll come let you know of the boy’s condition in the morning.”

“Are you sure? I can-”

“Please.”

Fundy started, but shakily nodded and quickly left the house just as Wilbur came back with the materials.

“Where’s Mr. Fundy going, Dad?”

“You can see him tomorrow, Wil, but right now I need to tend to this boy’s wounds. Can you be quiet for me?”

Wilbur nodded and sat on the floor next to his father as he set the regeneration potions and ginseng aside, uncorking the healing potions. He pulled a cloth from the stand next to the couch and deftly applied the healing potions to the wounds on the boy’s arms and face, rolling up the boy’s already torn shirt to work on those burns and sighing as the inflammation went down. The boy would be okay, he knew. The burns weren’t anywhere highly vital, and he knew that, even though it would hurt for a while and would definitely leave a scar, the boy would live.

The boy groaned and Phil stopped, pulling the cloth away from the boy as he shifted. His eyes opened- Phil saw red, blood red, lava red- and blinked at Phil, pushing himself up slowly and fearfully. Wilbur watched him with wide eyes.

“Why are your eyes so red?” He asked innocently, moving up to level with the boy. The boy simply cowered, shielding himself from Wilbur’s imposition. Phil stood and moved Wilbur away from the child and crouched to meet his eyes. The boy moved his arms to look at Phil, and he noticed tears gathering in the younger one’s vision.

“Hey there, little one. Can you speak English?”

The boy watched him with blown-wide eyes, no understanding in his gaze. Phil sighed and stood, walking over and pulling a notebook from the stack of books that lay on the ground by the fireplace.

“What are you doing, Dad?” Wilbur asked.

Phil cracked open the notebook, pulled a feather from his wings, and began to write.

“I’m going to try and communicate with him.”

\-----

Techno awoke in a house, feeling warm and comfortable, albeit in some pain. He felt something cool being pressed against something that hurt and groaned, squirming away from what felt like- hands?

He opened his eyes and, meeting the bright green eyes of something that was definitely not another piglin, he scrambled back, pressing himself up against the back of the couch in fear. Who was this? He looked… almost like him. Was this a human? It couldn’t be- none of the pictures he’d seen of humans in books bore wings, especially not as big as those.

“Why are your eyes so red?” Techno startled as a boy said something in a language that was entirely foreign to him, and yet the statement was still directed his way. The boy was in his face. He cowered, curling into a ball and shielding himself from the other boy with his arms.

The other human stood, pushing the smaller one back with one of his wings, and crouched down once again in front of him, far enough to make Techno feel comfortable but close enough so that it was certain he was talking to the young piglin.

“Hey there, little one. Can you speak English?”

Techno didn’t understand. Why couldn’t he understand? His eyes watered. What were these humans saying to him? Were they going to kill him? He screwed his eyes shut in fear, curling into himself farther. He didn’t want to die. What did they do to him before he’d woken up? Had they poisoned him? Put something that was going to hurt him in his burns? What was that substance? He was scared. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave. He wanted to le-

Suddenly, something was placed in front of him on the couch. He opened his eyes and looked down with a watery gaze, furrowing his brow. A book? A blank one, with only some… Piglin on it? Yes, that was the language of piglins, albeit broken and misspelled. Techno picked the book up, ready to translate it to himself as best as he could.

'Hello. I am Phil, and this is my son Wilbur. We do not wish to hurt you. You are in the overworld. We are treating your burn wounds, you got from blazes. Name? Age? Pain?'

Techno read it, then read it again. He was in the overworld? He looked up at the human in front of him, Phil, with suspicious eyes, then took the quill that was being handed to him.

'I am in the overworld?'

Phil read the short sentence, then looked at Techno and nodded. Techno bit his lip, then wrote again.

'I am a youngling. My burns hurt. I am Technoblade.'

\-----

Phil watched Techno eat with a careful gaze. The boy had been living with him and Wilbur for around three days now, and Phil had discovered that piglins, even piglin hybrids, heal extremely quickly with the right care. The burns were nearly completely scarred over, leaving only raw, fresh pink flesh in their wake. It had taken some poorly translated convincing to stop Techno from picking at his scabs, but after a while he seemed to understand that he shouldn't, and that doing so would result in things that weren't good. 

He sat down and slid the book they'd been using to communicate over to sit in front of him, opening it and plucking a quill from his wings. He really needed to stop- the pinions were raw where new feathers were growing in, and it would honestly be so much easier to just keep a quill on him, but it was so convenient he couldn't bring himself to. 

'How are you feeling today?' He wrote, turning it around to show the boy. Techno read it and took it and the quill handed to him. Phil watched him write. His Piglin had gotten much better over the last few days, having to use it so frequently. He was glad he taught it to himself all those years ago before his first trip to the nether. He was also glad it came back to him so easily. It had been helpful then, but he figured he'd never need to really use it again. That is, until he met Techno.  
The boy pushed the book back to Phil and he took it, reading the words.

'Okay, I think. My burns feel better.'

Phil nodded with a kind smile. They both looked at the doorway when Wilbur walked in, announcing his presence with a yawn. "G'mornin'," He said, his voice laced with sleep. 

"Good morning Wil," Phil responded, standing and walking over to the counter to prepare Wilbur's breakfast. "What would you like to eat? I made oatmeal and-"

"Good... Mornin'" 

Phil looked up at Techno's voice. This was his first time hearing it. It was deeper than a child of his age's should have been, but that could be chalked up to his piglin genes. It was heavily accented and timid, sounding more like a test run than an actual greeting. Phil smiled.

"That was nice of you, Techno. Wil, what do we say?"

"Thank you!" The older boy chirped, sliding into the chair next to Techno. "Why aren't you eating your bacon? Do you not like it? Can I have it?" He chattered, not realizing that Techno wouldn't be able to comprehend just yet. Techno probably had only been imitating what he'd heard Phil and Wilbur saying every morning for the past few days, but Wilbur took the small statement as proof that Techno knew english.

Techno blinked at Wilbur, confused at what he was saying and obviously overwhelmed by all of this contact. Phil chuckled and pulled the book back, writing down what Wilbur had said. 

Techno read it and wrote back. 'It smells like burnt piglin.'

Phil realized as he read it. Techno was a piglin. He couldn't eat pig. Shit. He nervously pulled Techno's plate away and dumped the bacon onto Wilbur's plate. He gave Techno his meal back and gave Wilbur his, who scarfed it down hungrily. 

'Sorry.'

Techno waved it off. A signal for 'It's okay'. Phil sighed, watching both boys begin to eat once again. 

"Hey Dad, how long is Techno gonna be with us?" 

He turned his head to Wilbur when the question left his mouth. Techno watched him too, with a trained eye, even though he probably had no idea what Wilbur had said.

"Well, I don't know, Wil. As long as he needs or wants to."

"But isn't he a piglin? Doesn't he have to stay in the never?"

"Nether, Wil, but yes, he's a piglin."

"Why doesn't he look like one, anyway?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know anything?"

Phil laughed at this, and Techno looked at him with slight alarm at the booming noise. "I know a lot of things, Wilbur. I just don't know much about our houseguest here. Maybe we can learn together, hm?"

Wilbur grinned and nodded, going back to his food.

Techno looked at Phil and cocked his head to the side. What were they saying? He wanted to be in on this conversation, but he... didn't know how. Phil saw his distress and pulled the book towards him.

'Would you like to learn English, Techno?'

\--------

"Mr. Phil, can we talk?" Phil looked up at Techno's voice and smiled, inviting him into the living room and gesturing for him to sit on the couch.  
The boy had been living with him and Wilbur for a couple of months now, and he'd picked up on English incredibly quickly. The accent was still there, but much lighter now, in the form of him never pronouncing his g's. Phil supposed that was to be expected- he's from an entirely different world, and the languages spoken were so vastly different that it should have been difficult to even speak English for someone like Techno.  
In any case, it was late. Very late. Phil had put the boys to bed hours ago and he was up reading and drinking his nightly tea. Usually he'd be out fighting the mobs that showed up around the house, but there had been less lately, and he figured he could take a break for one night. He closed his book and put his tea on the chest next to the couch as Techno walked up and climbed on.

"You know you don't have to call me Mr., Techno. Just Phil is fine. But what's up? Couldn't sleep?" Phil asked, taking a sip of his tea and watching the boy with a keen eye. He fidgeted, his eyes anxiously askance. He'd noticed over these months that Techno had some degree of anxiety- jumping at little things, getting overwhelmed easily, getting scared if he said the wrong words, that sort of thing. Phil hoped he could help him.

Techno shook his head. "No, it's not that," He responded, his voice small. "I was just... When am I going back to the Nether?"

Phil blinked, then sighed. He knew this question was coming. He knew it, and he didn't want to believe it. Over time, he'd come to regard Techno as something of a second son to him. He loved when the boy helped him in the kitchen, or dragged him outside to play-spar, or asked tons of questions about the overworld, some of which Phil couldn't even think to answer. He didn't want to send Techno back, but they both knew that the Nether was the boy's home and that's where he needed to be.

"When would you like to go back?" Phil asked, his voice quieter than before.

Techno frowned, looking down to his lap. "I don't," he whispered. "I don't want to go back."

He was taken aback for a moment, then gave a small smile. "Then you don't have to. You can live with us, if you want."

"I can?"

"Of course."

"And I can be your son, just like Wil?"

Phil felt something in his heart swell, and his smile widened. "Of course."

"Can I call you Dad?"

"Of course."

Techno grinned, something that Phil had found was a very rare occurence. "Thank you, Mr. Ph-" he stopped himself. "Thank you, Dad."

"Of course, Techno," Phil said, ruffling Techno's hair. "Now run along to bed. It's very late, and you have your chores to do in the morning." 

Techno nodded and hopped off of the couch, walking out of the living room, but halfway across the floor, he stopped, turned around, and ran up to hug Phil quick and tight, before running back out of the living room and up the stairs. 

Phil smiled wider than he had in a while, tears coming to his eyes. He felt like a new father all over again; he huffed a chuckle and ran a hand through his hair.

He supposed he was.


End file.
